Starcrossed Lovers, Indeed
by Apocalyptic Lore
Summary: Spain finds himself falling for the sharp-tongued grandson of Rome- a family nemesis. How long can he and Romano last in this secretive entanglement of love they've wound up within? If Romano actually goes along with it at all. Romeo Juliet, APH style.
1. Act I: In Which Everyone Is Quite Mopey

**A/N: Oh, yes, I went there. This is based off of William Shakespeare's play **_**Romeo+Juliet**_**, but themed just so for Hetalian purposes. This will hopefully get updated pretty often, though if people completely ignore this, it probably won't happen. If anyone would like to see a progressive cast list on here somewhere, feel free to ask. This was not originally the parody I intended to put out there, but I was bored out of my mind and felt strangely compelled to write this. Each act will likely be each chapter, so there should be about five or six chapters, depending on if I add anything in at the end or not.**

**Enjoy~!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own Romeo+Juliet. I own virtually nothing, actually. Aren't I lucky?**

~w~w~w~

_Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.  
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes  
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;  
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows  
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.  
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,  
And the continuance of their parents' rage,  
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,  
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;  
The which if you with patient ears attend,  
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend._

-Prologue of _Romeo+Juliet_, William Shakespeare

~w~w~w~

The streets of the beautiful Verona- splayed out across the land with winds and turns that could lead a man virtually anywhere in the country. Paved with sleek black stone, each of the many veins that extended from the primary road had been trodden upon by a many weary travelers, civilians, and even royalty, to a certain degree. And 'twas upon this road that two young men strolled, making idle chatter amongst themselves about various matters of life, of relationships, and of whatever else needed discussed.

"I cannot believe those Montagues!" uttered the shorter, a young blond man whose vivid violet eyes cautiously scanned the town square before them. His voice sounded a bit more saddened than irritated, however, as he glanced up at his companion, Berwald, in uneasiness. "Have they really no idea what they've been doing? I normally try to keep an open mind, but there's just no convincing _them_."

The taller blonde grunted, grabbing a fruit from a food stall and passing some coins over to the vendor. "Well," Tino continued, turning the corner. "I'll certainly stand back and fight, if I must. I'd really rather not, but they leave me no choice. Can I have some?"

Berwald nodded, splitting the large fruit in half and handing the other portion to his comrade.

"Thanks." Tino brought the food up to his lips, nibbling at the fleshy outside of the fruit. "What is this?"

"A p'ch." A peach, as Tino interpreted.

"It's good... Hmm… Wait!" The shorter man dropped his peach onto the ground in an instant, amethyst gaze fixated with what lie directly ahead of him. "Who are they? I can't tell from here…"

Berwald allowed his eyes to follow Tino's, along the expanse of road before them, and caught a glimpse of the two men in question. "M'nt'gue."

_Montague? Oh, why must we always cross paths with them?_ Regardless of such thoughts, however, Tino held a firm stance, eyes not once averting from their protective watch on the two approaching men, who continued to advance along the pathway and nearer the two Capulet blondes.

One of the approaching Montagues stepped forward, emerald eyes ablaze in irritation at the sight before him. "You're, like, in our way!" he spat, brushing back long locks of blonde hair with the back of his hand. His companion, a brunette man, insisted that they not bother with the likes of a Capulet, but, alas, the blonde seemed adamant that they stand their ground and tell off their family's greatest enemies.

"N-No… you're in _our _way!" Tino retorted before emitting a little sigh of unease. _Am I really this unconvincing?_

"Oh, you are _not_ arguing with us!" the Montague retorted, threatening hand rising in a fist above his head. Despite the protests of the other Montague, the blonde brought forth a hand, shoving rather roughly upon Tino's heavily-clothed shoulder. "We're totally going to-"

His harsh sentence was cut off abruptly by Berwald, who had taken his stance in front of Tino, sword unsheathed and pointed purposefully at the Montague men. "H'nds 'f m' w'fe."

"I'm not your wife…" Tino muttered under his breath, glare everlasting upon the Montague face. "But, I suppose if we must fight, we must." At those words, all hell ruptured the earth above, shattering all civil conversation and bringing forth a much more violent form of quarrel. Toris, the brown-haired Montague accompanying the blonde one, leapt forward, nearly tackling Tino to the ground in the process. Berwald thrust his sword forward as well, aiming with acute precision at the blonde Montague's head, though found that his opponent beheld a much more defensive style than previously expected.

The scrap persisted on for about three minutes or so before another man forced himself into the equation, trying desperately to hold back the raging Montague men. "Wait, Feliks, Toris! Stop!" But, as it was, his attempts were futile, and they tore swiftly from his grasp and back into the fray. The man sighed, running a hand through his thick locks of wavy golden hair and gazing dismally into the distance. There would simply never be a peace in this land, and that was a well-practiced idea.

"Oi, Francis!" barked a voice approaching from the west. Arthur, a Capulet himself, stormed up to the overdramatic, "peace-keeping" blonde and withdrew his rapier as well. "Trying to get yourself involved in this too, huh? Stand down, bloody wanker!"

"I'm just trying to keep the peace… As should you." He wiggled his eyebrows in an impressed mockery. "What says you, Arthur? Peace, or perhaps a nice session with me later this evening…"

"Wha-? You coward!" Uttering a few more swears, Arthur lunged from his spot beside the road and slashed away at Francis, forcing the latter to extract his weapon as well and defend himself.

Before long, the street was compacted tightly with the tussling bodies of Montague, Capulet, and goaded civilians alike. As it was, even the lowest, poorest of citizens found themselves abhorring the two feuding houses, and took every last opportunity to feebly attempt to both protect themselves and end the fighting through means of killing off every last member of the houses. Granted it was rather ineffective, but such was the way of the town of Verona.

"Enough!" erupted a voice from just beyond the skirmish. All civilians, as well as the Montague and Capulet bodies, averted their attention to Ludwig, the Prince of the land and therefore a superior to them all. "Yet again, you disrupt the peaceful streets of Verona, just so you can feud over the most ridiculous of matters! Capulet, come with me! Montague, stay behind and meet me back later. Bear in mind that I will not tolerate any more of this foolishness. One more spat like this, and your lives will pay the price! Come along, men." With those final words, Ludwig and his attendants took their prompt departure, followed closely behind by Gnaeus*, the head of the Capulet household. The remainder of the Montagues and Capulets exchanged final glares and distasteful hand gestures before exiting the premise.

… All except for Francis and Adalwin*, who lingered behind in conversation. "Francis, who was it that started this?" Adalwin questioned, face lacking in any emotion and ultimately unreadable.

"Your servants approached their servants- Toris and Feliks, and Tino and Berwald. At that point, all hell broke loose. I'm afraid I can't say much more than that. Oh, and Arthur tried to kill me, but that's pretty normal." Considering the strong dislike that Adalwin had towards the Capulets, however, Francis wisely chose to leave out the little detail pertaining to how much he wanted to get back at Arthur, or get into his bed. Whichever.

"And where is Antonio?" Adalwin inquired, allowing his gaze to flit about the town square before them. "I didn't see him at the dispute today."

"I'm not sure- could still be out, picking tomatoes from the garden. I really don't know _what's_ gotten into him recently." But this, of course, was a blatant lie, not that the elder Montague was aware. Francis, being the romantic that he was, could see that glimmer of happiness within his companion Antonio's gaze- a gleam that had appeared in many a-pairs of eyes throughout the years. 'Twas a shimmer of love, of genuine love, purer than any state in which he had ever seen his friend's eyes being. Why, there was simply no denying it, he-

And that was precisely when Antonio entered, rare frown upon his tanned mug as he lumbered past Adalwin and Francis, letting a slight sigh escape parted lips. All inkling of that loving glint was dissipated from his emerald gaze, which now hung and gazed down upon the grassy land beneath his feet. "Excuse me, er, sir, but I don't think he would really like to see you right now. He needs a friend who really understands what he's going through to comfort him right now." Though a bit taken aback, Adalwin obliged and fled the scene, muttering little things about the Capulets under his breath as he vanished from sight behind a large building, presumably on the way to the main house.

"'Toni, how was your time with the lovely lady?" Francis said cheerily, taking a seat beside his friend upon the stone ledge. "Why so glum?" Then a slight gasp racked his shoulders, and Francis whirled Antonio around to look him directly in the eye. "She didn't break up with you, did she? Did you find her with another man? Or perhaps a woman? Do tell!"

Antonio cast a saddened smile at his comrade, swinging his legs to and fro from the ledge in a fidgety manner. "No, I don't think so. I'm not sure what was wrong with her, actually. Léa* didn't act like there was anything wrong, but… I don't know."

"You sound a bit flustered." Francis shook his head, clicking his tongue a bit before reaching over to pull his friend into an all-too-tight embrace. "Things will shape up though."

"I don't think the problem was with her, though." Antonio gazed thoughtfully up at the sky, face screwed up in deep consideration. "Well, she _did_ say that I was too optimistic… She also said I was too dense. Francis? Am I dense? I never really thought about it… But, then again, aren't brick walls dense? Am I really that much like a brick wall?"

"E-Eh…" To say that Francis hadn't the slightest idea what to say was a ridiculous understatement. In all honesty, Antonio was, quite possibly, the densest person he had ever met in his life- not that he would ever tell his Montague companion about that. "Well, you aren't like a brick wall."

"Really?" That certainly seemed to brighten Antonio's mood, and his typical smile soon spread across his face. "Thanks, Francis! Hey, wait, why do _you_ look so down?"

"Oh, well, any time you're down, I'm bound to feel the same way." Truthfully, he wasn't depressed in the slightest- he was just concentrating harder in his attempt to reach over and grab Antonio's rear. This was a pretty normal practice for him, actually, and his friend never seemed to mind- that, or he was too dense to notice _that _as well.

"Ah… I see. Well, I'm leaving, Francis!" Whatever it was that Francis had said in the past few minutes must have heightened Antonio's dampened mood, for the other man was now rising onto his feet with a smile upon his face; though he was not, by any means, completely cured of his sadness. Thankfully, however, it was not near the sadness or anger that Antonio had the potential to possess; he had been known to be rather two-faced, at times, and while the man was typically so happy that he would have rainbows and sunshine streaming from his ears, he could also be a complete psychopath when provoked to a certain point. That was a single side of his pal that Francis had only seen once, and did not wish to experience again- it had taken himself and Gilbert just to pry him from the perpetrator, back when they were children.

"I'm coming with you!" Francis called up, following his lovesick companion up the pathway towards the main house owned by the Montagues. "Oh, just forget about Léa, 'Toni. She obviously did not deserve you." _Now, myself, on the other hand…_

Antonio nodded, though still released a tiny sigh in disappointment. He had genuinely thought of Léa as the one for him, even if she had been a Capulet. Ah, what was one obstacle? Of course, at the same time, she had some little factors of her own that turned him away at times. And how was it that Francis always managed to grab every woman (or man, for that matter) off of the street and woo them to the point of no return? But there was someone out there for him, somewhere… right?

"Ah! Francis I've got it!" he exclaimed, mentally cheering himself on in giddiness. "She thinks I need to tone down my happiness!"

_Oh, Toni, my friend… Never gonna happen._

~w~w~w~

Now, elsewhere along a different stretch of road, there stood another group of men- a Capulet, Gnaeus nonetheless, along with another man who appeared to be from out of town, perhaps from the town just to the east. The two remained in a steadfast conversation, exchanging words of news and of future plans for their families. Or, at least, they attempted to, however the non-Capulet was a bit preoccupied stuffing his face with some foreign food item, which made a full conversation quite difficult.

"So, Alfred," Gnaeus began, smiling at the caramel-blonde before him. "You _really_ feel up to marrying the man? Don't get me wrong, my grandson is plenty presentable, it's just… he can be a bit intolerable at times. I think I would feel more comfortable for you to marry him in a few years, maybe after we improve his little… _antics_."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Everybody loves me, there's no way he'll get turned away. I'm sure it'll just take some time for him to warm up to me." Alfred sipped on his drink, catching a glimpse of worry within the eyes of Gnaeus.

Gnaeus was hesitant to reply, though his decision seemed finalized. "Alright, then. I'll make you a deal- manage to win over Lovino's heart, and I'll give him to you immediately. Granted, it won't be easy, by any means, but if you can actually manage to do so, then you're free to take him. I'm a bit sick of dealing with him at the moment anyway. I knew I should have enrolled him into the church- Feliciano was perfectly fine, always behaved, and knows his place. It would've been the best thing for Lovino, but… I am getting off topic. We must have a party, to celebrate this momentous occasion! Alfred, you are more than welcome to attend yourself. Servant!" A little boy came bounding up to him, though his expression was not one of a particularly happy child. "Ah, there you are, Peter. Find the people listed on this invitation, and tell them about the ball that shall be thrown. And be sure to invite any pretty women you may find along the way- as long as they aren't Montague."

"Yes, sir," Peter muttered, faking a grin before snatching the slip of paper and speeding off. "Ugh, that old man can be so demanding! Oh well, the closer I get to Gnaeus, the sooner I'll be appointed as the head of the household!" Not that that was ever going to happen in such a way, but the kid would not listen to reason. Smirking, he rounded the corner, nearly bumping into Arthur in the process and barely skidding out of the way in time. "Outta the way, you jerk!" he shouted, groaning before running out the door and out into the open.

"Rude brat," Arthur mumbled, standing back up and walking off to the main hall.

"Alright," Peter told himself, looking down at the parchment in curiosity. "Okay, let's see…" And the smile promptly fell from his face. "Oh, yeah, I can't read… Well, now what? I have to find someone who can read. Let's see- ah, there! Excuse me!" The young child promptly raced over to the end of the street, up to where Antonio and Francis were deep in conversation.

"Oh, Antonio, forget about her. She clearly wasn't worth your grief nor time."

"I know, Francis, I know…" Antonio's head rose a bit, catching sight of the child bounding up to them. "Oh, hey, kid. You're pretty adorable, you know~! Ah… What do you need?"

"I-I'm not adorable!" Peter stuttered, face blushing a furious scarlet. "Anyway, I need help. Can either of you read?"

"Sure thing, give it here," Antonio said, smiling welcomingly. Peter obliged, handing the parchment over to the unfamiliar face in curiosity. "Let's see…" And he read aloud the guest list, catching the names of various Capulets and civilians alike- as well as the name of his beloved Léa. "Huh, that's a lot of people… Where exactly is this?"

"It's a supper, at my master's house," Peter replied, looking at the two taller men in boredom. "Hey, if you're not a Montague, feel free to come along. Gnaeus said there would be a lot of wine, women, and virtually anything else you could think of. Ah, I have to go. Bye!" And with those final words, the child ran away, smirking and snickering aloud like the little troublemaker that he likely was.

"Huh. That was strange. Ah well, let's go, Francis." Antonio grinned, tossing the parchment aside and beginning to stroll away, in that carefree manner of his.

Francis, on the other hand, was not so ignorant. "Wait! Do you not see what we need to do?"

"Hm?" Antonio seemed indisputably baffled. Ah, Francis could be so strange sometimes~!

"Oh, my friend, do you really not see? Léa is going to be there, don't you want to go and meet up with her one last time? Maybe to try and patch things up?"

Antonio looked at his friend with a confused expression worn upon his face, though after about five minutes it was replaced by a wide grin. "Hey, that's a pretty smart idea, Francis! But… I'm a Montague! And so are you!"

"So? What's there to stand in our way, besides that? As long as we disguise ourselves, we'll be able to get in without any problems!"

The latter considered that option once more, and then returned the smirk. "You can be really smart when you want to be."

"Well, when I have you and Gilbert to make up for, I should hope that I know what I'm doing."

And the two exchanged smiles once more.

~w~w~w~

And, all the while, the Capulets were having some planning troubles of their own. Gnaeus swallowed a hard gulp of saliva before rapping on the door of Lovino's bedroom, calling his name once, twice, thrice, before barging in, accompanied by Lovino's prominent caretaker, Elizabeta. The young man groaned, pulling the covers back over his head and releasing an exasperated sigh.

"Damn it, it's polite to knock, you know!" he snapped, rising from beneath the covers with a look of absolute irritation upon his façade. Lovino was known as the guy who you most certainly did _not_ want to deal with- lucky Alfred for having to marry the guy.

Gnaeus shook his head, coming to stand beside his grandson's exhausted, hunched over form. "Look, Lovino, I need to discuss something serious with you, here, so if you could get up long enough for me to-"

"Spit it out already!" he spat back, crossing his arms in impatience. And, needless to say, Lovino was not a morning person by any means.

Elizabeta sighed, reaching forward to place her hands on Lovino's shoulders. "Calm down, Lovino. You don't even know what he wants yet!"

Gnaeus nodded, forcing his grandson to look into his eyes. "Lovino- I'm not really sure how to say this, but… hmm. What is your view on marriage?"

Lovino blinked twice before replying, stating his answer rather plainly. "It's a waste of money, and it ends up taking perfectly happy men and women and dividing them as opposed to bringing them closer together. I don't care one way or another, because I don't plan on marrying any time soon."

Gnaeus coughed into his fist, glancing uneasily at Elizabeta, hoping desperately for some assistance on the matter. "Then I'll cut to the chase. Lovino, you are to be married."

It took a while for the words to sink in. When, at last, they reached Lovino's mind, he recoiled back towards the headboard of the bed. "Hell no! Who on earth-?"

"The heroic Alfred, nonetheless." Gnaeus gritted his teeth together, awaiting a prompt smack from Lovino, though found it never came. Instead, the younger man responded through means of scowling and crossing his arms, about ready to burst.

"Ah, Alfred?" Elizabeta piped up, suddenly cheery. "You, and Alfred… Hmm." Though her response was plain, her inward thoughts were screaming "yes, yes!" in complete happiness.

"It won't be such a bad thing!" Gnaeus insisted, smiling the best he could at Lovino in reassurance. "He seems kind, and means well. He can only make you a better man than you are now!" And, it was made evident that those words were the wrong ones to say, as Lovino stood before his grandfather, glaring daggers into his face.

"A better man? So, what, you're saying that if I don't marry some nobody that I've never even met, I won't be as good of a man as I should be? Thanks, Gnaeus, thanks a lot." Spitting those final words of sarcasm off of his tongue, Lovino stormed off, teeth gnashing together and jaw clenched.

Gnaeus sighed, massaging his temples in agony. "Oh, I knew he would react like this…"

"It's not your fault," Elizabeta comforted, smiling gently. "He'll come around, don't worry." She would have said more, had Peter not entered with a smile upon his face.

"Hey, Gnaeus! The guests are arriving!" he exclaimed, cocking his head to the side in confusion. "Jeez, what happened to you?"

"Nothing, nothing… I'll be down soon. You invited some pretty girls, right?"

"Of course."

"Good, then. I'll come down in a minute. Go tell Lovino to get ready."

"Yes, sir." With that, Peter fled.

~w~w~w~

Antonio, Francis, and the rest of the Montagues who had decided unanimously to crash the party soon found themselves outside of the main building, talking and laughing amongst themselves, smirking all the while. Antonio, though still a bit down about Léa, continued to grin, turning his attention to Francis and Gilbert, who stood before him with torches alit with fire.

"Hey, Francis!" he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Any idea where she might be?"

"We only just got here, 'Toni! Be a little more patient!" Francis retorted jokingly, turning to look towards the building. "We'll find your dearly beloved, mess around with their heads, and flee. We should probably go inside now, yes?"

"What, we aren't going to dance first?" Gilbert asked, smirking wider than previously. "Not that I want to dance anyway, but if 'Toni doesn't get the chance to flit around with Léa, he may return home a dead lump of coal again."

"But what if I don't feel like dancing?" Antonio shot back, shaking his head and erupting into a fit of laughter. There was just no staying mad at his two companions. "Okay, that's kind of unlikely, but you never know!"

"Eh, you're in love, you idiot!" Gilbert slapped Antonio upon the back, roughing around playfully with his Montague companion. He himself was not a Montague- he was the brother of Ludwig, who had decided not to attend, and the two of them had been invited, naturally. All the same, he loved roughing up some of the Capulets, and Antonio and Francis, his best friends, were of Montague descent. "If you've managed to get this far, you can do anything! So quit moping around, and let's go destroy the Capulet household!"

"Yes, let's go!" Francis cheered, bounding forward with the group and approaching the main doors, forcing themselves inside and ultimately crashing the party- not that anyone seemed to notice, as the majority of the Montague group managed to stay inconspicuous. Then there was Francis, who immediately found his way over to a table, at which many young women sat and poured them each a glass of wine. Gilbert… well, nobody was ever entirely sure what he was doing.

And then, there was Antonio, who stood in the corner of the room, gazing around in minor desperation for Léa to appear, but he could find her nowhere. Was there really no hope for him? Would he find no other woman that satisfied his tastes? Perhaps Gilbert was right- maybe being single did have its advantages. Of course, at the same time, the feeling within your heart at true love was supposedly a spectacular thing. Yet, as many times as his friends had described it, Antonio had never felt quite the sensation within his chest with Léa as he had always thought he was supposed to. Did this mean that, perhaps, he had not been in love in the first place? Was he just a fool, blinded by false love? There was still hope for him, then? Yes, that was surely so. He would not let some sham love ruin his chances of meeting someone anew.

And that, coincidentally, was the precise moment that he laid his eyes upon Lovino. The man was of average height, with locks of auburn and a single curl that strayed to the right side of his head. He wore simple yet sophisticated clothing, and bore upon his face an expression of both uneasiness and irritation. But, perhaps the aspect that caught Antonio off guard the greatest were the amber eyes of his, ablaze with a determined sort of look, as if he was motivated to do something but could find no way from behind the steel bars that enclosed his soul's desires. After all of the promises, after everything he had just told himself mere seconds prior, Antonio felt his heart begin a rapid palpitation, eyes unable to remove their gaze from the mesmerizing view of the other man, across the room. It was an odd feeling- his heart felt tight, constricted, though all the while as though it had been allowed to soar free for the first time in his entire, once-hollow life.

Though he had admittedly never thought of himself being attracted to a man, this adorably lovely creature before him gave him a whole new insight as to his love and its tastes. "E-Excuse me, sir," he mumbled to the servingman beside him. "But… who might that man be? Over there?"

"I'm not sure," the man replied, turning to give a woman her drink and never again returning his attention to Antonio.

"I have to catch his attention!" Antonio told himself aloud, advancing further around the dance floor and over in the direction of the other man.

Such a voice was heard by another, however- Arthur, who had been standing beside Antonio all the while, gave a little gasp of alarm, turning to Gnaeus to get his attention in desperation. "Sir! A Montague is among us, and young Antonio at that! Vile creatures… Shall I rid us of his presence?"

"Ooh~! Just let him be for now! Where's the harm in enjoying the *hic* atmosphere?" Gnaeus slurred, sixth wine glass within his grasp. "Hm, Antonio, eh? People around town seem to think well of him. Let him go, it will harm out reputation further to bring him down anyway! Go ahead, Arthur, grab a lady and enjoy yourself! This is a celebration!"

Hesitantly, Arthur sheathed his rapier, glaring furiously into the back of Antonio until the Montague's body disappeared within the vast crowd of people. He only had so much patience until he snapped, and at that point would likely attack anything in his path.

Antonio, meanwhile, was approaching Lovino from the right, waving a hand in front of the younger man's face to catch his attention. Oh, he looked even more unbearably cute up close!

"Do you want something?" Lovino said, scowling as he leaned more of his weight upon the pillar. He stole a quick glance at this bizarre man- honestly, who in their right mind just paraded right up to somebody and stared at them? It was freakin' creepy! All the same, this man didn't look particularly strange; tanned skin, mocha brown hair, vivid smile upon his face, which in turn shone a certain light upon emerald irises that stared intently into his own with fervor. N-Not that Lovino found it particularly attractive- regardless, nobody would ever please his tastes, and he was determined to keep it that way. "Why do you keep staring at me, creep?"

"Sorry," the other man said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, still smiling that damned ridiculous smile of his. Seriously, if Lovino had to look at that bright grin for another five minutes, _his own_ face would start to hurt. "I just… I saw you over here by yourself, and I wanted to know if you wanted to dance?"

_He's actually asking me to…?_ "Nice try, bastard. Back off and leave me here." How stupid did this man really think he was? It was a mockery, that's what it was!

Antonio's smile lightened up a bit, and Lovino's heart certainly did not flutter in the slightest. "Sorry if I sound a bit demanding. I can't help it- you're adorable!" And with that, Antonio took the younger boy into his arms and embraced him, laughing all the while… er, at least, until Lovino punched him in the jaw. "Ow~! So un-cute…"

"Y-You'll get more than that if you try something like that again!" Oh, perfect, now his voice was stuttering! Lovino reminded himself to mentally kill himself later. Rolling his amber eyes he turned to leave, uttering little things in Italian under his breath.

"Ah, wait!" Antonio reached forward, desperate not to lose this man as well, and ended up grabbing hold of the curl on accident, which earned him a shriek and an appropriate kick to the shin. "O-Ow! You really shouldn't hurt people like that!"

"Watch what you grab hold of, you idiot!" Lovino whirled around, facing the taller man with his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. "Look, you-"

"Lovino!" Elizabeta approached the young Capulet, beckoning him to listen to her words. "Your grandfather wants a word with you."

The younger man scowled deeper, pushing past Antonio and towards Elizabeta. "Oh, what now?"

"Who is his grandfather?" Antonio asked, deeply curious about this man that made his heart go free and untamed. Well, as long as he wasn't a-

"Lovino? You mean you don't know?" Elizabeta allowed her eyebrow to rise, infinitely curious as to who this man was, exactly. "He's the grandson of Gnaeus himself."

"…You mean he's a Capulet?" Had this not already happened to him once? Why must all of his lovers (or, at least, that's what Antonio thought of them…) be born of Capulet blood? He would likely have monologued further within his mind, had Francis not suddenly ran up to him and nudge his shoulder desperately.

"Come, Antonio! Gilbert just set the buffet on fire; we need to get out of here! Now!"

And, with those words, the Montague group fled the scene.

Thankfully, the fire had been put out abruptly, and Lovino soon found himself standing beside Elizabeta, mumbling things to her with a slight blush upon his cheeks. "S-So… who was that man, exactly? The bastard who wouldn't dance with anyone?" _But me,_ he added silently.

"That was young Antonio, I believe," Elizabeta added, patting Lovino upon the shoulder. "A Montague, no less."

"A Montague?" Lovino repeated, utterly speechless afterward. The vile man who had approached him had been the child of his sworn enemy? Was it even possible? Of course, the more he considered it, it made perfect sense- the creepiness, the stupid, oblivious grinning, the enchanting emerald eyes, the- _Damn it!_

Elizabeta stole a single, concerned glance at Lovino before joining Gnaeus at the tableside. Lovino, on the other hand, merely stood and stared blankly at the wall. Though, really, after this night's events (marriage, tables on fire, flirty Montague…), how could he say anything comprehensible?

But there was one thing for certain. Lovino Capulet was not, by any means, attracted to a Montague.

At least, he would never admit it out loud.

~w~w~w~

**A/N: Yes? No? Let me know how I did. This'll be a rare thing for me- a somewhat serious parody, based on a classic that I could never live up to. Needless to say, something like this helped me tremendously in school, when I had to remember each character and their personalities. Hope you enjoyed it and whatnot as well! Also, let me know if certain characterizations were incorrect- I have trouble with some, like Tino (for some reason).**

**Léa- Belgium**

**Gnaeus- Rome**

**Adalwin- Germania**

**Review, ne~?**


	2. Act II: In Which Gilbert is Quite Vulgar

**Please don't judge me on my choice on Friar Lawrence. See A/N below for reasoning.**

~w~w~w~

_Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,_

_And young affection gapes to be his heir._

_That fair for which love groaned for and would die_

_With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair._

_Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,_

_Alike bewitchèd by the charm of looks,_

_But to his foe supposed he must complain,_

_And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks._

_Being held a foe, he may not have access_

_To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear._

_And she as much in love, her means much less_

_To meet her new beloved anywhere._

_But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,_

_Tempering extremities with extreme sweet._

- Act 2 Prologue of Romeo+Juliet, William Shakespeare

~w~w~w~

Now, Antonio himself had retreated to an empty portion of the building with nary a calming thought lingering in his mind. No. His entire thought process was engulfed and presently drowning in obsession, in love, in want, for the man who had so caught his desires previously that night. Though they had interacted for mere minutes, he had absorbed every last inch of the Capulet that he could possibly process: the curve of his jaw, the pink underhue of his cheeks, the crease of his brow that indicated deep worry, or perhaps a mild fear… The crease that had briefly revealed itself to him formerly upon their bodily contact. Perhaps it could be considered bizarre, or perhaps even mildly sadistic, but he wanted to earn another such reaction from the beautiful man.

Yet, mere hours prior, he had been overcome with sorrowful thoughts of Léa! Is it not peculiar how the heart works? But the Capulet was most certainly not a replacement for the woman who hurt him so. Lovino… _Lovino… _Oh, how nicely the name rolled off of his tongue! How he wished to repeatedly speak said name 'til his dying day…! To whisper sweet nothings to one another, to confess time and time again just how strongly, how _prominently_ his adoration for Lovino Capulet was developing.

"I must find him again…" Antonio muttered to himself, voice low to deter any possible eavesdroppers. Halting his habitual pacing, the Montague swiftly took to the window, slipping down into the shrubbery below and slinking away with nary a care as to the consequences that might cultivate from his blatant absence.

Why, 'twas but minutes later that Francis himself barged into the , accompanied by Gilbert, kinsman to Prince Ludwig and part-time best friend of Antonio and Francis.

"Antonio! _Mon ami_~?" Francis drawled out, a singsong tone lacing his smooth vocals. His sapphire eyes scanned the room's premises with one quick sweep.

Gilbert yawned lazily, a bit off-beat from a number of alcoholic beverages that had been easily downed by said albino. "Probably pigged out and headed home. I mean, it IS Antonio. I'd bet money on it."

"_Non_, I'm pretty sure I heard something over here…" Francis raised his head and peered across the way, spotting the window from which Antonio had leapt, as well as the wall over which he had climbed. A number of vines that had once tangled and intertwined up the wall in a pleasant manner were now disorderly and somewhat disheveled, as though somebody had tugged mercilessly at the vines without avail of pulling them down. "I'm pretty sure he climbed this…"

"Oi, 'Tonio!" Gilbert raised his scratchy voice to a higher level, cupping a hand to his mouth and allowing a devilish smirk to spread across his lips. "If Léa seeks you, by all means, p-"

"Gil!" The Montague suddenly reached forth and placed a hand over the albino's lips, hushing anymore foul words that might have sprung forth from those loose lips of his. "What do you think you're doing? Do you want to make Toni cry again?"

At such a response, Gilbert cocked an eyebrow and pried the offending hand away from his mouth. Yuck. "Uh… what? How would that upset him? All I'm trying to do is get him out of the shadows. Jeez…"

"Leave him be, my friend. Let him sort out his thoughts for a minute. Léa, well… She-"

"Whatever." Shrugging his shoulders, Gilbert uttered a sleepy yawn and bit back a few additional sexual remarks. All he wanted to do was mess around with his companion. Such a shame that Francis was being a stick in the mud, but then again, if it pertained in any manner to romance, perhaps it was for the best. "Well, I sure as hell ain't sleeping outside tonight. Let's go back to your place."

At such an open-ended suggestion, Francis could not bite back a sly smirk. Oh, yes, that sounded quite pleasant indeed. "Sounds good to me~. With that final affirmation, the blonde and the albino departed, deep in conversation, deep in thought, all drifting further away from their befuddled friend, Antonio Montague.

~w~w~w~

Lovino, meanwhile, stood out upon the balcony connected to his bedroom, elbows digging rather painfully into the cold marble stone of the railing, scuffing up the dry white skin to the point of deep discomfort. A melancholic, dismayed sigh passed forth from parted pink lips as he gazed out dully at the world beyond. Marriage? Such a things had seemed unfeasible mere hours before. But now… Oh, he hardly even knew of Alfred, and even that was by breath of word and nothing more! Was there any going back at this point, however? Could his own disapproval of this situation possibly override Gnaeus' plans for his future? Somehow, he doubted it quite highly.

And then there was that blasted Montague he had received the great displeasure of encountering at the gathering. Hm. Probably a complete asshole; at least, he would not hesitate to believe it in an instant. All the same… Much to his own disturbance, he could not shake the bastard's soft green eyes, aglow within a long tanned skull, accentuated by thick lashes and coupled with a white smile and fluffy mocha locks of hair. His hair, by God! That alone made him question his own purity; his fingers twitched against the marble at the sheer idea of threading them through those short, wavy strands…

"Damn it all…" he muttered, amber eyes narrowing in distaste as his stomach began to churn. Said eyes flicked downward, staring abysmally at the stone pathway, two stories below. How simple would it be to merely take a step forward, and plummet– plummet his way out of this wretched existence. He doubted anyone would really miss him; perhaps for the first few days, but in time, he would be but a frail myth in the massive record of modern history.

Down below, Antonio found himself in quite the knotty situation; stalking a man was questionable enough in such an age, but stalking the son of your greatest enemy? That probably would not bode well with the local authority… Best stay hidden, then, he told himself. And so he remained in his present position, crouched beneath a thicket of bushes below the balcony upon which his beautiful calamity was brooding. Oh, how the starlight glimmered in that anxious gaze! Lovino seemed quite bothered, about something or another… Though he spoke hardly a word (apart from a stray swear here and there), his eyes retained a vocal bravado, one that could put Virgil himself to shame. How he wished to stare into those eyes until his dying day, to touch that stress-reddened, tomato cheek time and time again…

"Damn it all!" Lovino repeated louder, banging his fist once against the stone and gnashing his teeth together in distress.

"… Eh?" Okay, needless to say, Antonio knew not what had spurred THAT sudden outburst, but, um… Well, certain things could be overlooked. If anger management happened to be an issue, he would certainly take whatever path may lead to assisting it along the way.

"A Montague… Why does he have to be a Montague? _Chigi!_ That name, dammit…"

At that, Antonio could no longer resist the urge to respond in some form or another. "Lovi~!"

Upon hearing a new voice, Lovino nearly jumped out of his skin and stumbled forward, grasping the railing of the balcony for dear life. Alright, so perhaps he wasn't quite ready to die yet. "W-Who the hell i-is it?" Unfortunately, the black of night prevented him from spotting his stalker, thus prompting an irked huff from the Capulet heir.

"It's me, Lovi! Antonio Montague!" Leave it to Antonio to take the direct, straightforward route. He waved his hands animatedly in the air, though this did absolutely nothing, for reasons mostly aforementioned. "But you can call me anything else, if you'd like! Since you don't like my name!"

Antonio…? Lovino narrowed his eyes, frown strengthening. "You again? How the hell did you even get in here?"

"Ah…" Antonio's smile broadened, if even humanly possible. "I climbed! Over the orchard wall!"

"You mean the wall that's seven meters tall?"

"Love knows no boundaries!"

At that, Lovino grunted in response, sitting his bottom down upon the railing and gazing over, folding his arms across his chest. "Y'know, if I wanted, I could make a scene, a-and have you murdered right on the spot. Damn…" Curse him and his adamant stuttering…

Antonio's eyes grew sullener. "But I would rather they kill me than have you deny my love, _mi amor_…"

A heavy gulp of saliva caught in Lovino's throat, prompting a strangled choke from his lungs. Oh, thank the heavens for the darkness that concealed his blushing face…! He certainly needn't head back into the lighting of the bedroom anytime soon… But all of these things the wretched Montague was spewing forth from his lips…! Why, they were absurd! And, yet, he could not quell the stirring in his stomach. "Mi amor"? Normally, he wasn't one for the Spanish language, but the way it rolled so rightly off of Antonio's tongue nearly sent him falling to his death right then and there.

And it was precisely then that he realized what the hell just happened.

Oh God…! Surely Antonio hadn't overheard his ramblings? Granted, much could be interpreted from his phrasing, but… Oh, bullocks! Of course Antonio knew what was going on! Could he have been any more implicative, really? He groaned inwardly at his own stupid outwardly expressions. Surely Antonio had caught his few yet obvious words of revelation? "Look, Montague-freak, I don't know how much you heard, but-"

"Eh? Oh, you mean a few minutes ago?"_ Crap, he did hear me…!_ "You seemed really angry about something, Lovi! Is everything okay? If it isn't, I can kiss you better~. You know, if you come down!"

…What? How utterly daft _was_ this man? Did he truly not realize what Lovino had been fretting over so adamantly? Surely this saucy fellow had enough common knowledge to figure it out? That, or this gorgeo- no, _Montague _was more ignorant than he would have guessed. "Not on your life, Montague! And quit-"

"Antonio!"

"… What?"

"My name is Antonio. Antonio Montague." The tanned man's smile softened lightly, though it went unnoticed in the darkness. "But for you, I would change my name in a heartbeat." Heh heh. Perhaps those flirtatious lessons Francis had been giving him as of late were beginning to pay off after all.

Lovino's cheeks grew a vivid scarlet. "… Look, Antonio-"

"Do you love me or not?"

Upon hearing such a straightforward inquiry such as this, Lovino all but tumbled off the balcony once again. Love him? He did not believe in love at first sight… There was nothing attractive about that honey voice, that tousled chocolate hair, the way he- Oh, hogwash! Who was he kidding? There was no denying it. Well, he would always deny it. But that was not the point. "… I… I can't tell you that… B-But I cannot deny it either… Damn…" A heavy sigh escaped the slight man's lips, and he placed his head in his hands with yet another aggravated groan. "… I'm confused, alright?"

As Antonio parted his lips to speak, a call beckoned Lovino from inside, prompting the Capulet to slide off the railing and back onto the solid balcony flooring. "Ah, wait, Lovi!"

"What, bastard?"

"When can I see you again?"

Pink spread along Lovino's ears. He cared to see him again? But what redeeming qualities had he possibly displayed to the Montague? There was absolutely no way this stranger loved him… Yet he hardly seemed a stranger at all. This was all so surreal… But… Perhaps he was indeed falling for the son of his enemy. As much as denial struggled to well up and overwhelm his flood of emotions… It simply would not cave. "… I'll send you a messenger tomorrow. If you really do... l-love me, send it back with place and time of day."

Antonio's eyes came alive with a jazzy zeal. "Ah, alright! I will, I-"

"_Lovino!_" The voice beckoned once more.

The brow of said Capulet twitched. "Coming, Eliza!"

And it was with those gestures that Lovino departed from his spot on the balcony, thus fleeing Antonio's field of vision.

But not before a whispered "_ti amo_" was exhaled from his mouth, and it was this utterance that sent Antonio's heart a-flutter.

"So cute~… sleep well."

~w~w~w~

"Father Vash! Father!"Antonio hurriedly burst his way through the gates of the nearest Catholic Church, a frenzied aura overwhelming his body. Friar Vash Zwingli stood hunched over a grouping of flowers in the garden, carefully eyeing one flower in particular and muttering a number of words regarding poisons and love. The Montague was not entirely sure WHAT he was rambling on about, but he needn't concern himself with poison discussion at the time being. Whatever it was Vash was concocting was no concern of his whenever love was concerned. "Father, I need to talk to you… Eh? What are you doing?" Well, perhaps he did care.

"Huh? Oh, Antonio… Just observing this flower. It holds both medicine and poison–"

"Ah! But that doesn't matter!" Nevermind. "I'm in love, Vash! I'm in love and I'm ready to shout it to the world!"

Vash simply eyed the Montague with quite a look of disturbance and quizzicality upon his face, as exhibited by a raised brow and a slightly slack jaw. "… What, you and Léa?"

"Hm? No, of course not! I've practically forgotten her! And I feel amazing! Buhyoo~" And with that, Antonio all but spewed delight from every pore in his body. Somebody was clearly lovestruck, Vash mused internally. That, or Antonio had finally lost what little sanity he had still retained.

"So… Did you actually need something?" Vash inquired, returning his primary focus to his ever-curious flowers. Funny, how inhaling the pollen would heal, yet ingestion would poison... "Who are you in love with then?"

"The Capulet heir himself." At such a comment, the friar all but believed himself to be going crazy. "I love him, and he loves me, and we plan to marry. He's so cute~… And he always goes all red like a tomato. I bet he was blushing when I met him on the balcony…" Antonio's face illuminated even further at this idea.

After a few moments of fully comprehending all that Antonio had spewed at him, Vash mustered up the sense to speak. "… I don't see how you gave up on Léa so easily. But I'll marry you, if you ask…" After all, he began to think, if this marriage worked out as splendidly as Antonio seemed to believe it would, perhaps the houses could stop their incessant fighting once and for all? He himself was always one for peace and quiet. Perhaps that was why he decided to become a friar in the first place.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Antonio excitedly took Vash in his arms and embraced him, swinging him around in a circle and laughing giddily despite the friar's obvious protests. Placing the short man back on solid earth, he skipped off in a cheery daze.

Vash shook his head, sighing and brushing himself off; he then returned his attention to his flowers. "_Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast…_"

~w~w~w~

"Where the hell is Toni?" Morning had since risen over the Italian horizon, and 'twas in this vividly shining morning that Francis and Gilbert made their way down the alleyway adjacent to the market, deep in conversation and seeking out their companion, Antonio, for informative reasons (or, perhaps, to simply do whatever meddlesome things they usually got up to). "Léa's gonna kill him, one of these days. Make him a maniac."

"Oh, Gilbert, did you hear?" Francis lowered his voice slightly as he spoke to his albino friend. "Arthur challenged Antonio to a duel. He said so himself in a letter that came this morning."

"Is he even awesome enough to fight Arthur right now? Love's kinda softened him. He's turning into a wuss. Sure, he can still kick ass with a sword, but-"

"Shh! Here he comes!"

Indeed, Antonio himself was practically prancing up to the two, a rather stupefied gleam in his green gaze. Gilbert snorted out a laugh. "Look how thin he is. Hell, Franny, even his pants are starting to look droopy. Like some sort of French weirdo. Kesesese~, definitely not five meters, like me."

"Ah, hey Fran, Gil." Antonio grinned widely and released a gentle, lovestricken sigh.

"You gave us the slip, man!" Gilbert hooked an arm rambunctiously around Antonio's shoulders, placing the other hand on his own hip. "If you catch my drift."

"Oh, really? Sorry, I just…" Antonio bit his lip. "Had some stuff I needed to get done, that's all."

Gilbert snickered once more, shaking his head with a broadening smirk. Oh, his friend made this all too easy. "Oh, "stuff"? So you bowed in the hams? Flexed your ass?"

Antonio's gaze took a turn for the baffled, and he cocked a coffee brow in response. "You mean… I curtsied?"

"You're the epitome."

"That's awfully civil…" Francis murmured beneath his breath, sniggering to himself and taking to Antonio's other flank, reaching down to pat his bum in the typical manner.

"Pfft, I _am_ the essence of awesomeness, after all."

"Ah, why are we arguing like this…?" Antonio asked with a mild smile of confusion.

Gilbert patted his friend on the shoulder, allowing a bit of a sigh to pass through his nostrils at Antonio's apparent naivety. "Because, Antonio. This has to be better than crying over some Capulet chick that dumped you. Why, your love was nothing more than an idiot trying to stick his-"

Alas, interrupting his little innuendo-laced ramblings was the sight of Elizabeta and Peter, strolling not too far from their present positions. Giggling, Antonio murmured under his breath, "Ah, there we go."

"Peter!" Elizabeta took a seat upon the steps of an old building, huffing slightly and willing the sweat from her reddening face. "Peter, please bring me my fan…"

"Kesesese! Watch me at work!" Smirking with features of the Devil himself, Gilbert neared the poor nurse and leered directly at Peter. "Yeah, Peter, give her the fan to hide her face, because the fan's way prettier anyway."

Elizabeta shot a glare at Gilbert, though felt incredibly exhausted at this point, and did not particularly feel up to a fight (for once). "Morning, gents."

"Actually, the bawdy hand of the clock now pricks noon~."

"Back away, arse." Elizabeta bit her finger quite rudely at him before turning to the group as a whole. "Can somebody tell me where I might find young Antonio? I mean to have a word with him, if that's alright."

"Oh, score, Toni! Kesesesese~."

Francis himself could not resist the urge to twist around the words as well. "She'll probably invite him to dinner, oui?"

"A bawd! I've found a baw-"

And it was precisely then that Elizabeta's fist connected with Gilbert's jaw, knocking him backward and into the dirt.

"Be sure to meet us at dinner, Antonio!" Francis chirped, reaching down to drag Gilbert along with him towards the primary estate of Montague. Best get a chance with Gilbert while he was still unconscious.

Elizabeta sighed loudly, folding one leg over the other and crossing her arms over her chest. "What was HIS problem?"

"Ah, that was Gilbert…" Antonio rubbed the back of his neck in a somewhat nervous manner. This woman was actually quite scary when the situation prompted her to be. "He likes to hear the sound of his own voice. Talks more in a minute than most people do in a month..."

"Augh, that scoundrel…" Shaking her head in dismay, the nurse returned her attention to Antonio, a minor plea flickering in her eyes. "I just wanted to talk to you about Lovino. If you even consider fooling around with him and dropping him like a rock..."

"No!" He felt a bit surprised at his own urgency. But at this point, the words were already cascading out of his mouth. "I love him, I do! With all my heart! Lovi is… He-"

"Stop, stop…" A smile graced her features suddenly, a drastic change from her prior Gilbert-based scowl. "That's all I wanted to hear. He will be happy. You're a good man, Antonio…"

A light blush dusted Antonio's cheeks, though a genuine, soft smile soon blessed itself upon his lips as well. "Tell Lovi to meet me this afternoon at Friar Vash's cell. Oh, and that I love him…"

Elizabeta sighed. Yes, these two were definitely meant to be, it seemed. 'Twas God's will. Besides, the two would certainly make a cute couple, particularly with their same-gender situation. Mm, yes, quite~…

"Oh! In an hour, I'll send someone to give you a rope ladder." Antonio tapped his chin in thought. "That way, I can get up to meet Lovino secretly tonight."

A secret, nightly meeting? Two lovers, both male, coming together in the secret of the night for the sole purpose of seeing each other, and loving each other timelessly…? Delicious. Elizabeta nodded and rose, turning to Peter and beckoning him to begin walking. "Thank you, Antonio. Until next time."

And it was with these final words that the nurse and her servant fled the scene.

~w~w~w~

Between the pacing to and fro and the white marks littering his arms from nervous habits, Lovino Capulet very well might have driven himself crazy with impatience had Elizabeta not returned right then and there. Upon her arrival, Lovino all but fell at her feet (though he himself would never admit it openly to a single soul) in plea.

"What did he say, Elizabeta?"

"I'm tired." A brief smirk grew upon her face, though she soon masked it once more and took a set upon the floor, falling back and exhaling deeply in exhaustion. "And your taste in men is horrible, to say the least."

"… What? Damn it all, what did he say?"

Elizabeta allowed the smirk back onto her mug, laughing giddily and pulling Lovino into a greatly undesired embrace. "I kid, I kid! He's a perfect gentleman– and so hot! Ah, where is Gnaeus?"

"That's it?" Lovino groaned and all but banged his head into the wall. "_Mio Dio!_ _What did he say?_"

"Do you have permission to go confess to Friar Vash today?"

"… Yes?"

"Then hasten! You have a husband happily (quite happily, might I add) waiting for you!"

Realization struck, and at long last, a whisper of a grin appears on Lovino's face. It is instantaneous, and gone in a matter of seconds, but it was there once, nonetheless. "Y-Yeah… Okay. I'm going…" A heavy blush of embarrassment ghosted onto his cheeks, and a gentle frown appeared in place of the prior smile. "I just can't believe all of this…

"Damn it, I feel like such a _girl_…"

~w~w~w~

"May God be pleased with this bonding of two houses…" Vash grumbled, glancing over at Antonio, who was already awaiting Lovino's arrival at the church. The friar gave a tiny sigh, glancing upward at the ceiling of the cathedral. Dear God, may he not be making a grave mistake that would be regretted in the future…

"Ah, but why wouldn't he be?" Antonio fingered at the hem of his shirt in boredom, peering up at Vash every now and then. "I love my little tomato with all of my heart, and he with his."

"Yes, but love is like fire and gunpowder." He grunted, eyes falling toward the flooring. Guns… Oh, how he'd once had such a history with the weapons… "When the two kiss, all that can result is explosive violence… Love each other moderately. We don't need another disaster in Verona…"

'Twas in this moment that Lovino burst through the doors of the chapel, tears streaking his face despite the efforts to choke them back. He immediately, wordlessly, embraced Antonio and sobbed into the taller man's shoulder, gripping the cloth there with nimble fingers. Perhaps that was what love was to be in Lovino's life: shame and joy, all thrown together in a potluck of emotions. He felt everything and nothing, all at once, and he found not one reason to complain.

"Normally, I wouldn't have allowed you in my church, after all those times you showed up naked in past years…" Vash placed a hand upon the smaller man's shoulder a bit too firmly. "Be grateful that I'm allowing you this much."

Shuddering, Lovino nodded quickly, now knowing much better than to mess with the friar, considering his somewhat shady past.

"Lovi…" Antonio pulled Lovino in for another long, resonating squeeze, wrapping his arms around the slighter frame and sighing into his hair, narrowly avoiding that strange curl that whipped away from the side of his head.

"Don't call me that, bas-" Vash sent him a deathly glare. No cursing in the church. "_Jerk._"

"Ah, but I love you!" His hands dropped to Lovino's arms. "You're my lovely Lovi!"

"Sh-Shut up…"

"Alright, you two, come on." Vash rolled his eyes lightly, making a face at the stray gleam in Antonio's eyes. Something he most certainly wished he had not noticed.

He positively _needed_ to get these two married, lest he leave them alone to be unholy.

_To be continued…_

**A/N: Well! Another chapter up, over a year since the last one, I believe… Hm. Either way, here is Act II. I'm sorry if it's a bit hard to follow or rusty, as I've not written much of anything for quite a long time.**

**So. Vash is the friar. Why? Because Switzerland has quite a bit of Catholicism. And with the gunpowder comment in the original, I simply had to incorporate it. Plus, he's trying to make peace. Whoo~…**

**Also, feel free to ask if you need any other character clarification. Y'know, a "who's who" sort of thing.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'll be taking your suggestions into account, and likely making any necessary changes within the next few days.**

**Please, continue to review. I need motivation to write 11 pages of fanfiction per chapter. ^^;;**


	3. Act III: In Which Blood is Quite Spilt

"Urrgh, Gilbert…?" Strolling leisurely down the streets of fair Verona were none other than Francis and Gilbert, accompanied by a number of other common cohorts not far behind the dastardly duo. The blonde gave a minimal sigh, gazing up at Gilbert with a tiny frown forming on his lips. "Can't we stop and go back home? My legs are tired, and we can't get down to dirty things with those Capulets roaming the streets…"

Gilbert rolled his crimson eyes at his friend. He clasped his hands together and folded them behind his head, walking with more bravado than before simply to spite Francis. "You're like those guys who have swords and pray never to use them. And then, once you've downed a few beers, you're decapitating like a madman."

"I'm not THAT bad, am I?"

"Well, there's a reason I try not to make you angry. You're not as bad as Toni, though. Kesesese." Gilbert smirked, peering over at the Montague and taking wider, more exuberant strides. "Have you ever tried pissing him off? It's one hell of a way to get killed in cold blood."

"I don't go picking fights like you though." Gilbert had always had a rotten knack of getting himself into meddlesome trouble, by his own hand or another's. It would be the death of him someday, Francis was certain of it. The poor man simply could not will his lips shut.

"That's because you don't have the balls."

"Oh, great…" Francis' voice grew sullen, lowering an octave as a grouping not too far from their present position began to approach with haste. "The Capulets."

Indeed, this posse was composed of a number of Capulets, Arthur himself included. The grouping strayed towards them with obvious intention of either doing business, or picking a fight like the ruffians they always seemed to be. "Afternoon, gents," Arthur grumbled out, blatantly expressing his disapproval towards the need to treat the Montagues as individuals. "I need a word with one of you. And don't give me any of your bloody nonsense."

"Does it matter which one? 'Cause I'm pretty awesome." Gilbert displayed a toothy grin, earning a snigger from Francis, afar.

"_No._" Arthur was not amused. Not in the slightest. "Antonio. You two consort with one another, right?"

"What are you, Roderich? "Consort"? Kesesesese!" Placing his hand upon his blade, Gilbert caught a glimpse of uneasy wariness in the other's eyes. "I can make you dance as badly as he."

Much to Francis' relief, it was in this moment that Antonio graced the Capulet crowd with his presence, smile falling from his face as he caught sight of the small mob. Capulets and Montagues? Hanging out? What were the odds? He certainly hadn't expected his marriage to Lovino to change the opinions of his peers so quickly. Perhaps that wasn't what all of this was about? Suppose there was but one way to find out for himself. "Franny, Gil? What's-?"

"Antonio?" Arthur looked the man up and down and frowned deeper, furry brows knitting together in clear agitation. "I have but one thing to say to you, old chap."

"… Yes?" His head cocked to the side in inquisitiveness.

"Thou art a villain."

One of Antonio's eyebrows rose in bafflement. What was with the sudden insult? He had done nothing to offend the poor Capulet. And… Even so, with his newly established connections with Lovino, he found himself unable to truly hate the man, as much as he wished to get back at him for such a degrading term. "But I didn't do anything… And besides, I have reason to love you now. So let's-"

"Git!" Arthur's words grew acidic in tone, laced with menace and mild edginess. Arthur Capulet certainly was not a patient man, and such a thing could not be argued under any circumstances. "You cannot reverse the harm you've done me– done my family! Draw your sword!"

"But I don't wanna fight you!" Antonio shook his head fervently, frowning with a saddened, frustrated glint in his emerald eyes. Lovino would never forgive him for brawling against his cousin. "I _can't _fight you, Arthur!"

"Toni! Don't wuss out on me_ now_!" Oh, how soft his friend was becoming…! Gritting his teeth in a wild smirk, Gilbert unsheathed his own rapier and took a stance, fiery enthrallment glowing in his scarlet stare. "Alright, Crap-ulet, make your move before I beat you with my awesome." And, with those exhilarated words, Gilbert and Arthur parried each others' attacks, Arthur advancing upon the other man for a brief moment before the two fought with even fervency once more.

"Wait, Gil, Arthur, don't!" Watching in horror was poor Antonio, uncertain of how to react to the feuding of his best friend and his lover's cousin. "Francis, do something!" Frantically, desperately, Antonio drew his own sword and tried to disband their incessant fighting. Oh, why did this have to happen-?

"Augh!"

And 'twas then, much to Antonio's horror, that the tanned Montague noticed the blade sticking out from Gilbert's chest, beneath his own arm. "G… Gilbert!"

The Capulets accompanying Arthur urged him away, and with good reason; the blonde stared with wide eyes, tugging his rapier free of Gilbert's body and hurriedly staggering away out of fear for both his life and his reputation. "I am hurt!" The albino stumbled and swayed, though did not yet fall. "A plague… on both your houses… I've been spent. Don't tell me the bastard got away…?"

"Gilbert!" Francis approached his friend and placed a trembling hand upon the other's shoulder, though it was smacked away quickly enough, undesired by the injured albino.

"It's just a scratch. Don't touch me." Gilbert's breaths began to hitch, and a leer of near hysteria morphed its way onto his face. "Kesesese! Heh, damn it all! That unawesome little rogue, that villain, that fights like arithmetic… I'm over in this world! A plague, on both your houses! Goddamn! Why did you get between us, Toni?"

Tears bit at Antonio's eyes, threatening to fall yet not pooling over to preserve what little shred of pride he retained. Gilbert would not have willed him to cry. "It… It just seemed like the right thing to do…"

"Hmph. Francis, take me inside." Gilbert's eyes began to dull, brow tensing as he fought to survive, disregarding completely the crimson now pooling from the wound on his chest. Oh, how it hurt his entire body…! His heart gave a shuddered, staggered throb, irregular and strained. Francis nodded silently, still horrified by the events that had just played out before him, and hooked his arm around his friend's body for support. "A plague! A plague on both of your houses!" He was now shouting with whatever scrap of energy he could muster up. "I am spent! Your houses!"

And, without so much as an utterance further, Francis dragged poor Gilbert into a nearby abandoned shack, leaving Antonio to brood in his own misery. What was the matter with him? Had he allowed Gilbert– close relative of the Prince, his best friend– to die by the hands of a man who was his enemy a mere hour prior? Oh, how love had wringed his heart into a weak, effeminate thing!

'Twas in this moment that Francis reappeared with moist rings around his eyelids. Alone. "Antonio, my friend… Gilbert is dead! So young…" His soul would rise to Heaven tonight. Not yet ripened.

Antonio had hardly any moment to respond, regardless of the monotony of his reply, when subdued voices began to approach from the north. Arthur and the Capulet posse. "… Arthur lives, while Gilbert…?" Giving one final sniffle, Antonio wiped the stray tears from his eyes and withdrew his rapier, a new glowering smolder in his eyes. A rare frown formed itself on his face, jaw clenched tight and brows furrowed at the centre of his forehead. "Arthur!"

Arthur peered up at Antonio inquisitively, cocking a bushy brow in question. "You again?"

"Draw your sword!"

Francis shivered, stepping back and hoping to avoid any feuding that might take place in the near future. So. This was what Gilbert had meant earlier about Antonio having raging fits whenever provoked.

Antonio snarled lowly, stepping nearer the Capulet with an atypical venom coating his tongue as he spoke. "Now, Arthur. Go ahead. Try calling me a villain again!" He smiled sweetly, casting a somewhat sickened feeling into Arthur's gut. "Gilbert's spirit isn't leaving Earth alone, y'know~! It's either you, me, or us both."

"Hm. Bloody wanker…" Arthur sneered and spat at the ground beside the Montague, though did unsheathe his blade– the end of which still dappled red with Gilbert's blood– and point it at Antonio. "Then let us fight."

Such words were spoken not seconds prior to Antonio's enraged attack, swords flitting around and against each other as the two dueled it out. The air was filled with the sounds of skirmish– clatters and clanks and swears– until, at last, after about two minutes straight of parrying and lashing out, it ended.

And thus, it abruptly ceased– Arthur dead among the scattered dust.

Antonio panted, sliding his blade out of Arthur's body where he had impaled the Capulet and giving a mild shudder, welling anger beginning, at last, to subside. His eyes were now glossed over with a sullen shock. Had he just…? Indeed, it would seem so… Yet, he felt as a void. An empty, emotionless shell…

"Antonio! What are you doing?" Francis finally assembled enough words to form a coherent sentence, urging his friend forward with a light nudge. "Arthur is dead, and we are still in the middle of the city. You need to run, my friend. Th-They cannot find you now!"

Antonio eyed Arthur's bloodied cadaver for a moment, a woozy feeling muffling up his mind for a moment. "… Francis… What am I doing…?"

"Run!"

Shaking his head, Antonio gave a cry of despairing anguish and hurried away, disappearing from Francis' sights just as a rumpus was beginning to sound from the opposite direction. The blonde Montague shook his head in incredulity, eyes not once flitting away from Arthur's dead body; despite his aversion towards Capulet and his family, he knelt and shut the man's eyes, as he had done to poor Gilbert mere minutes before. Oh, so much blood had been spilt unjustly today…

"Where are they?" bellowed a voice from afar. Ludwig appeared over the horizon, hurriedly hastening down the road towards Francis and the dead Capulet. One glance over the body and Ludwig had enough reason to question the Montague right there on the spot. "Where are the ones who killed him? Was it you?" His icy blue stare bore into the other blonde; why, if looks could kill, Francis would hardly have lived past the age of four, let alone to this very day.

"_Non_, noble prince…" Francis' voice grew distant, the gnawing in his stomach returning. "Arthur Capulet lies here, killed in vengeance by Antonio…" His swallowed, peering back toward the dark abandoned shop into which Gilbert had been placed to die earlier. Oh, Gilbert… The relative of Ludwig himself, no less… "Because Arthur killed Gilbert…"

Ludwig's eyes widened, though did not lessen in rigidity. He groaned a low groan, eyeing the shack for a moment. A proper funeral would be in the works by the next day. May his close kin rest in peace. But, alas, this was not any place for breaking down emotionally; rather, a boiling anger was beginning to ferment within his body once more.

"What? Arthur?" Gnaeus, who had been accompanying Ludwig for conversational purposes measly minutes prior, dropped to his knees and examine the bloodied body of the bushy-browed boy. "My nephew! This is horrible… You!" He whirled around suddenly, turning to Ludwig with a rare frown upon his face. "You're a man of honor! Kill a Montague, avenge him!"

Ludwig fixated his cold glare onto Gnaeus for a moment before sighing. "… Who started this fight, Francis?"

"Arthur… He tried quarreling with Antonio. Antonio told him off, and said this was ridiculous, but Arthur would have none of it. Gilbert got angry with Arthur for his persistence, and…" And the rest was self-explanatory.

"Antonio must die!" Gnaeus snarled,

"What's going on here?" Francis breathed a sigh of mild relief as Adalwin approached, eyes narrowed distastefully at the grouping, though this was a tiny implication on his typically emotionless face.

_Oh, brilliant,_ Ludwig mused sarcastically. More people to quarrel over troublesome matters… "Antonio killed Arthur, Arthur killed Gilbert… _Somebody_ is going to pay for slaying my kin."

"Not Antonio." Adalwin narrowed his cold sapphire eyes. After all, Antonio had simply avenged Gilbert's life. He didn't deserve the death penalty for something so humble.

"For his crimes," Ludwig began, mind reeling and calculating as he tried to work things out amongst their incessant opinions. "Antonio will be banished hence. Gilbert, my blood, lies in a pool of red because of your feuding. You will all be punished, mark my words. If Antonio is again found in Verona, his blood will be spilt by my hand." He nudged Arthur's corpse with his foot, making Francis flinch involuntarily. "Eliminate this body and listen to my orders."

Gnaeus, with a last glare in Adalwin's direction, hoisted up Arthur's cadaver and turned to walk away, soon followed (though not voluntarily) by Adalwin. Ludwig sighed heavily and retreated into the abandoned shop to assess just how his kin had died, and spend a final few moments with the body.

As for Francis, he simply stood there numbly, eyes gazing into the splatters of blood and dirt that now accumulated on the ground.

~w~w~w~

Lovino sat within the confinement of his bedroom, gazing into the oakwood vanity at his own reflection with a tame sigh. Oh, how he longed for night to come! No, he likely would never admit it aloud to the majority of the world's citizens, yet he could not shake his desire for Antonio's return. Come dark, Lovino would be wrapped in the strong arms of the Montague with nary a care in the world. Funny, how love made it feasible to make love in the shadows of the night… One could easily see their lover, yet none other would view the two beneath the veil of black…

Ah, what was he thinking? Stupid Lovino! His fists banged his head lightly, a heavy blush ghosting its way onto his face. What was he saying? "Making love"? How _effeminate_ could he be? Disgusting. But that did not lessen his desire in any manner. It would be their wedding night, after all… Agh. He had been sold, though not yet enjoyed… Ick, no matter how he worded it, the act of sex sounded vile. Not the process, but the terminology. Everything was just so… _vulgar_…

A dull thud sounded from the hall, and it was not long before Elizabeta pushed the door open, rope ladder dangling loosely from her pouch and a sullen, empty gaze upon her face. "I have the ladder…" Her voice was laced with sorrow, with perplexity… So much that Lovino was prompted to raise a concerned eyebrow, despite his archetypal scowl.

"Eliza? Get a hold of yourself– what's wrong?"

"He's dead…" Elizabeta muttered, breath hitching and eyes widening. "He's dead, he's dead… We are undone, Lovino! He's gone– no, murdered!"

Lovino's heart all but stopped within his ribcage. Dead…? Surely she didn't mean Antonio? No… No! How could that be? "What…?"

"Ay, it's true! Antonio, why so cruel!" Elizabeta hugged herself tightly, setting the pouch with the cords aside for the time being. "I saw the hole in his chest, the piteous corpse… Pale and soaked with blood… I almost fainted…" And knowing Elizabeta's history as a fighter… well, that was truly saying something.

Blood…? Lovino gripped his pant leg, lungs refusing to intake or exhale air at present. Antonio... It almost seemed impossible… Tears threatened to pool over his eyelids, until Elizabeta spoke again.

"Oh, Arthur! So polite! I should not have outlived him!"

Arthur too? What? Lovino allowed the salty tears to brim now, streaking his face with wet streams. He really hardly cared about Arthur at all, but the thought of Antonio himself was too much for the poor Capulet to handle. "Both are dead? Damn it, what the hell…!"

"No…" Elizabeta shook her head, taking a seat upon the bed. "Arthur is dead, and Antonio banished... Antonio is the one who slew Arthur."

Silence befell Lovino upon those seven words, his entire body trembling at this point. The tears ceased to fall, perhaps out of pure shock. "You're kidding… Please tell me this is some kind of fucked up joke…"

"I'm afraid not…"

Oh, that fiendish Montague! Lovino gripped at his pant leg tighter, grinding his teeth together and squeezing his eyes shut. That bastard Antonio… What a deceitful snake! Had he himself been used? Did Antonio even love him? Oh, what did it matter anymore? He was in love with a criminal, a cruel brute. But… All the same, he loved him. Lovino Capulet was, much to his own surprise a day ago, head over heels for Antonio Montague. Why, they were even married! Antonio was still the same oblivious goof that he had fallen for, right? That could not possibly change… "Don't speak ill of him."

"Excuse me…?"

"Don't say a damned thing about Antonio." Lovino tapered his eyes, staring dismally into the mirror once more. "I don't blame him. I cannot."

"You would speak well of the man who killed your cousin in cold blood?"

"Like I ever gave a crap about Arthur to begin with!" Which wasn't entirely true. As cousins, he couldn't entirely despise the man. But he still felt hardly any sadness; why, his happiness for Antonio's wellbeing overshadowed ever other emotion he could possibly be feeling at this sudden turn of events.

Silence fell over Elizabeta for a moment, and she found herself gazing long and hard at Lovino's face. "… They're weeping over Arthur's corpse. Shall you join them?"

"I'd sooner cry my frickin' eyes out for Antonio's banishment." Lovino stubbornly picked up the cord and took to his bed, plopping down away from Elizabeta and folding his arms over his chest. "What a useless rope. I'll die a virgin and a widow, with this thing as my only hope. Whatever. I'm taking to my bed for the rest of the night, and death, not Antonio, will take my virginity."

"… I'll find Antonio for you. He should be with Friar Vash." Frowning mildly, the nurse exhaled slowly and rose, taking to the door and grabbing the handle. "I'll also bring him his ring."

"Good." Lovino leaned up against the headboard, narrowed eyes staring bleakly out the window.

_Oh, Antonio, you idiot. What have you gotten yourself into this time?_

~w~w~w~

Vash scowled, staring at the tabletop at which he was to have dinner, arms crossed over his chest. "Come out, you fearful man, before I raid the weapon supply under the church."

"No! I… I can't!"

The friar rolled his eyes. "You know, I can still see you under the table." So could they, should anyone have come there seeking such a man.

Slowly, with a sniffle, Antonio crawled out from the tight space, careful to avoid bumping the table and knocking off Vash's supper. A gleam of misery lingered in his emerald eyes, and his lips were turned downward in a rare frown. "What's the verdict, Vash? What did Prince Ludwig say?"

"He lessened your original punishment." Vash shut his eyes, sitting down to the table and setting his napkin in his lap. "Rather than execution, you will be banished from Verona."

At this suggestion, Antonio stood up straighter, threw his head back, and let loose a wild, maniacal laugh, pupils dilating and fingers twitching at his sides. The friar stared at the Montague with a blank expression, though internally he was wondering what the best method of exorcism would be. "Ha… Banishment?" A crazed glint passed through his eyes. "Show mercy, heh, _say death_! Exile is tenfold what death is! Exile, heh heh, exile is purgatory! A refuge for the hellbent! Hahahaha- Ow!" As Vash's fist connected with the top of Antonio's head, the Montague snapped out of his prior reverie, eyes dulling and smirk falling.

"Rude, unthankful sinner!" Vash snapped, pounding his palms on the table once and rising to his feet. "Our laws call for the death penalty, and yet the Prince showed you mercy and banished you instead! He was being compassionate!"

"It wasn't mercy!" Antonio took a seat across from Vash, holding his head in his hands. "If I'm banished, I must live without Lovi… Dogs, cats… Flies! Even carrion flies can touch her day by day, while I'll be stuck– eh?" His face lit up upon observing the friar's untouched dinner. "Tomatoes!"

"You madman, hear me speak!" He slapped Antonio's hand away as a mother would her child.

"But you'll just talk about banishment again…"

Vash ground his teeth and clenched his jaw, brow twitching. "Madman like you haven't the ears to listen to reason– why do I even bother?" He shook his head and placed his hands together. "Now let us praise the Lord for our meal."

As Vash parted his lips in prayer, a quick rapping upon the door sounded and broke his concentration for the second time that evening. Darn it all… "Antonio, hide yourself."

Antonio nodded fervently and, grabbing a tomato off of Vash's plate without regard to the friar's hissing disapproval, ducked underneath the table again, despite the lack of cover it actually provided.

"By God, why are you being so stupid? Honestly…" Vash shook his head and threw his arms up in the air in defeat. Fine. Fine. If he wanted to be captured, then by all means! He stole away to the door and opened it a crack, peering outside at the newcomer. "What do you want?"

Elizabeta stood her ground, unwavering. "I come to speak with you about Lovino. Where is Antonio?"

"Lovi!" Forgetting his current position and situation, Antonio perked up instantly in surprise, and in doing so rose knocked the table onto its side.

Vash's hands clenched into fists at his side, and so help him, were he not a man of the church, he would have instantly put a sword through this aggravating man's heart. "Antonio is right here." He begrudgingly reached down and picked up an apple. "Amen." With that, he took a bite and leaned against the wall. Forget a true meal today.

"Oh, he's acting just like Lovino." Elizabeta sighed, shaking her head. "Lovino won't quit blubbering and swearing, swearing and blubbering… It's enough to drive a woman mad!"

"You're telling me." Vash bit another bit of skin off the apple, eyes narrowed casually.

Elizabeta peered over at Antonio, who was presently doubled over on the ground, a sadness lasting in his eyes as he nibbled absently on the tomato he had stolen earlier. "Antonio? Grow a pair." With that, the Capulet nurse gave him a swift kick and placed her hands on her hips, staring intently into the pained eyes of the Montague. "Stand up if you're a real man. For Lovino's sake, for his sanity, rise up and get your tail out of your legs!"

Antonio gazed up at her, wincing at both her kick and her harsh words. "How is my lovely Lovi doing?"

"Honestly, Antonio?" Elizabeta shook her head, glancing up at the stained glass above her head. "He's busy crying his eyes out, mourning first for Arthur, then for you." Her eyes lessened. "You've made him miserable."

Antonio remained in his position on the floor of the church, eyes drifting over to the friar, who was busy munching away on his apple. "Vash? Tell me, please, what vile part of my body my name lies within? Tell me, so I can do away with what makes my Lovino so sad…" Considering these words, Antonio unsheathed his dagger from his belt, turning it over a few times and glancing at his own dejected reflection in the blade.

"H-Hold on a minute!" Vash tossed the apple at Antonio's head, off of which it clonked and hit the stone floor beneath them. "Don't act so hastily! People who do such things die miserably. Go to your love and comfort her. Then steal away to Mantua. If you do so, we can make your marriage public, and bind your families together, in due time. I can ask the Prince the pardon you by God's will, if fate should make things work out for the best."

"Oh, how educated you are!" Elizabeta grinned. "If only you were eligible…" But not for herself, of course~… "Oh, Antonio, won't you go comfort Lovino?"

Antonio glanced vacantly between Elizabeta and Vash for a moment before the ever-familiar smile took its place upon his lips. "Si, I will. Tell my lovely Lovi to wait for me. Oh, and that he can feel free to reprimand me!" But that was not intended with any sort of innuendo. Not at all. Francis had not rubbed off on him all these years by any measure. Of course not.

Elizabeta smiled. "Will do, Antonio. Thank you." She handed him the ring and bade the two farewell, retreating out the front door and back to the Capulet manor.

"Vash?"

Said friar grunted, turning toward Antonio and gathering his food all the while. "Yes?" he asked, upturning the table and sitting down in a chair once more.

"_Gracias._" He sent the friar a bright smile. "You've helped me a lot. Thank you."

Vash grunted again, returning his attention to his food, though could not help the gentle smile that graced his lips for the briefest of moments. "Leave at daybreak. Now, be gone to your love, you madman. I'll stay in touch with you over letter. Farewell."

"It grieves me to part with you…" Antonio reached out and hugged the friar tightly to his chest, causing Vash to give a strangled choke of alarm. "Bye, Vash~!" Releasing his hold, Antonio waved flamboyantly and stole out of the church, shutting the door behind him and giving a little skip of glee.

Vash cleared his throat and straightened out his robes, blushing lightly at the sudden display of affection. "Oaf."

Shaking his head, he clasped his hands together, slipped his eyelids shut, and prayed.

~w~w~w~

Down below, in the main hall of the Capulet estate, two voices discussed other such matters, similar in context yet different entirely in purpose. Alfred and Gnaeus stood together, gazing out at fair Verona beyond, deep in conversation.

"I'm so sorry, Alfred," Gnaeus apologized, a guilty smile appearing on his face. "We hadn't any time to really convince Lovino to marry you."

"Ah, that's fine!" Alfred gave a bubbly grin, pushing his glasses back up his nose and leaning down casually against the railing. "It's kinda a bad time anyway, right? With all these murders and everything."

"Well, I could probably get Lovino to do as I say. I mean, he doesn't really have much of a choice anyway, right?" Chuckling, Gnaeus turned toward Alfred, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "What is today, boy?"

"Um… Monday?"

Gnaeus pondered over something or other for a bit before snapping his fingers in resolution. "Ah, yes! You two will be wed Thursday! A perfect day for a wedding, if I do say so myself! We will each have only half a dozen friends going, so it does not seem as though Arthur's death has gone unacknowledged. Perfect! Are you alright with this?"

Alfred shrugged. "It's cool with me."

"Perfect! We will have a grand marriage! Lovino will be so happy…!" He sighed, peering up at the sky.

"Afore me, it's late! Until tomorrow, Alfred. We shall plan first thing in the morning."

~w~w~w~

"Antonio…?"

Daybreak fell in due time, as it did every day of the year, without fail. As the morning light poured in through the billowing curtain, two forms were illuminated upon the bed of Lovino's quarters. Lovino himself was presently awakening, giving a mild groan of drowsiness, and lazily hooking a bare arm across the chest of his lover. "You're not going anywhere, bastard," he grumbled into the pillow, though his tone was lighthearted. "It isn't sunrise yet."

"But it is, Lovi." Antonio sat upright, gazing softly upon Lovino's face in the warm glow of dawn. Oh, he desired to stay here forever, that much could not be denied. But, alas, should he stay, he should surely die a horrible, vain death, and that would get neither of them anywhere. Stroking the Capulet's pink cheek with his thumb, Antonio reached over the side of the bed and quickly dressed himself, all too aware of Lovino's stare intently ogling him up and down. "It's getting lighter and lighter outside as we speak."

Lovino grunted, though knelt up to steal one last, sweet kiss from the Montague. Oh, how he would miss these little moments… "I hear something... Someone's coming. Get out of here, you boor." With one final peck to the nose, Lovino bid Antonio farewell and took to his bed.

Antonio nodded and smiled sweetly at his lover. "Yes. Goodbye, Lovi~!" He thus climbed down the rope and disappeared into the morning shadows, a heavy feeling residing in his heart. This would certainly be a painful period of time…

Lovino, meanwhile, quickly pulled on a pair of pants and curled under the covers, wary of whomever would be checking on him at such an hour. "Who is it?"

"It's me." Gnaeus. "May I come in?"

"Do I have much of a choice?"

"Eh, not really…"

_Of course not… _Lovino thought bitterly. "I'm not well.

Gnaeus opened the door and inhaled deeply, glancing Lovino up and down before mustering up the right words to speak. "You weep for Arthur still? Oh, Lovino… It's because his murder is still alive, isn't it? That villain, Antonio?"

_He's far from a villain…_ "If I had things my way, I'd be the one to take revenge on that Montague bastard…" Oh, such lies, such horribly false lies…! But he hadn't any option, had he? Was there no alternative to telling Gnaeus such falsehoods?

"Oh, but that reminds me! I have fantastic news to put an end to all of your sadness!"

Lovino shuddered. Gnaeus having a good idea generally spelt disaster for both him and Verona… "And that would be…?"

"Why, come Thursday, you will be marrying Alfred!"

At such a suggestion, Lovino coughed violently on his own saliva. "_What?_ Marrying Alfred! You really think that'll make me happy?" Lovino could hardly believe his ears. Marriage! The nerve! Never, never! He was married to Antonio, and quite happily at that! He could never be bound legally to two different men! "I would sooner marry Antonio! W-Whom you know I hate."

Gnaeus frowned, shaking his head and wearing a rare glare. "Are you ungrateful? Desperate times call for desperate measures, Lovino. What is it you expect?"

"Gnaeus, calm down!" Elizabeta stepped through the doorway, pitying eyes upon Lovino's poor, dismayed self. "I heard you from the hall! What is this commotion about?"

"My top priority has always been to find Lovino a husband, or a wife, or something of the sort. And now he has the nerve to deny it, after all of this strife that I've been through? I…" He sighed. "Lovino, you and Alfred are going to marry. That is that."

With those final words, Gnaeus pushed past Elizabeta and exited the premises of Lovino's bedroom, leaving said Capulet heir to his own misery. "… Eliza…" he muttered, eyes downcast and face flushed. "Please, tell me there is something that can be done. Anything… Damn it…"

"Well… For what it's worth, Alfred is a fine man." Elizabeta took a seat beside him, placing a hand comfortingly on his back. "If your first marriage was so unsatisfactory that Antonio is banished, then perhaps it's all for the best that you wed Alfred. Antonio was not worth your time; why, he's a dishrag to Alfred's carpet!"

"Amen!"

"… Pardon?"

Lovino turned toward her, feigning a smile at the idea. "Tell my grandfather that I've taken to Friar Vash's cell for repentance."

Elizabeta gave a small smile. "Will do, Lovino. Thank you." Patting his back one final time, the nurse retreated back into the hall, shutting the door behind her.

"My God!" Lovino exclaimed upon her departure, kneading his fingers through his hair and clenching his eyelids tighter. "How can she say such things about Antonio after she praised him so many time before?" The hag! How dare she…? Well, fine by his account. He would indeed visit Friar Vash today, yet not for such reasons. Oh, no. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but damn it all, I need Vash's advice." With that, he picked up a dagger from beneath the bedside table, sheathing it into his belt. And, if no solution could be found?

Then he, Lovino Vargas Capulet, would take his own life.

~w~w~w~

**A/N: Well, here we have it. Act III, also probably my favorite act. Oh, Mercutio, how I hated reading your death…!**

**Please review. I'm uncertain when I will be able to update again, and it might be a while, so please give me motivation to continue this.**


	4. Act IV: In Which Emotions Run Quite High

"Thur-!" Friar Vash, upon hearing Alfred's sudden request, whipped his attention instantly away from his gardening to gawk at the other man with eyes wide as honeydew; in fact, his astonishment dared cause him to pull up on his herb a bit too roughly, thus yanking it upward from the ground at the wrong area. "Thursday? Why Thursday?"

Alfred shrugged his shoulders dispassionately, leaning back against the cool stone wall of the church and gazing down at the friar crouched at his feet. "Yeah, it's sudden, I know. Old Capulet's kinda nuts– don't let him know I said that, by the way. I just don't wanna get on his bad side."

"But… But you don't know what Lovino thinks of this." Vash rose from the ground, lightly brushing his palms against his pants and dusting himself off, all the while withholding a racing mind. Master Gnaeus wanted Lovino to be wed in no time at all; it was nothing short of absurd! "I don't like it."

"I wanted to talk to him about it, and I tried earlier… I think Arthur's death hit him pretty hard, since he threw the nightstand at me…" Oh, how unpleasantly disturbing that had been... "I think Gnaeus wants Lovino to marry me to help cover up this whole thing. You know, make him happier or something."

Vash groaned internally, gnashing his teeth together behind pursed lips._ If only I didn't know why this marriage should be slowed…_ He opened his mouth to reply, though found the voice dying in his throat as a man approached from down the road.

"Ah, Lovi!" Alfred spread his arms wide and cheerily loomed toward the snappy Italian, who looked about as annoyed to see Alfred as the latter was gleeful. "Good to see ya, my wife~. Or, would you be my husband…?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, Lovino shook his head and folded his arms across his lithe chest. "Neither. We aren't married yet, numbskull. And _don't_ call me Lovi, you bastard." That privilege was reserved for one man only. He turned to face Vash and parted his lips to speak, though a sudden brush to the cheek by tingling fingers caught his words on his leaden tongue. Seething with anger, he slapped Alfred's hand away from his face and returned his attention to the friar. "Vash, do you have time for me now? I need to confess."

"Of course." He almost spoke too quickly, though Alfred, being the slightly oblivious man he was, scarcely seemed to notice. "Um, Alfred, if you would leave us…"

"Oh, right! My bad…" The blonde chuckled and turned to leave, though not prior to facing Lovino one last time. "See you Thursday morning!" And thus, after planting a smooch on the sputtering Capulet son, fled the scene for other such ventures.

Making sure Alfred was out of earshot, Lovino promptly entered the chapel, slammed the door of the church behind the two of them, and gave a holler of indignation, rattling the stained glass windows that surrounded them. "Lovino! Oi! Snap out of it!" Vash grabbed the Italian by the collar of his shirt, eyes glowering. "Not in my church!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?" Lovino slumped to the floor onto his knees, slipping out of the friar's grip and hanging his head. Even he could not resist the tears that began to pool at his eyelids. "This is all just a goddamn mess…!"

"No swearing under this roof. And I already know about your situation." Vash's eyes softened, though still held the same sternness he always bore. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. This is bigger than us both."

"Don't give me that crap! I don't want to hear that from you!" A sudden venom laced Lovino's voice as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. "If someone like you can't help, then I really am doomed for hell, aren't I?"

"I told you not to talk like-"

"Damn this entire situation to hell! I'll swear as much as I-" His voice caught, cut off by a painful hiccup risen from his chest. Panting in silence a few moments more, he took the hem of Vash's robe in his fingers and clutched them until his knuckles glowed white. "… I c-can't take this, damn it…"

Sighing, Vash weaved his fingers through his hair and stared up at the ceiling in thought. "I really don't know if you can do much more than marry Al-"

"No! I would sooner _kill myself_, F-Friar." With dim eyes, Lovino peered up at the man of the church with trembling lips, now stained with saliva and saltwater tears. "I'm… f-fucking _scared_, Vash. If y-you can't come up with anything else, then… I-I want to d… To…" A heavy sob rocked his shoulders as he struggled to force back the emotions that poured from within.

What a broken soul this man had become… Vash glanced pityingly down at the Capulet, thoughts trying desperately to process something before this man took his own life right here at his feet. "Um… Ah! Wait, Lovino. You've yet to lose just yet. If you are willing to go so far as to commit suicide before marrying Alfred, then I wager you hardly fear death, am I wrong?"

"… I-It… Death is frightening to me, more than most things. But I would sooner waste away in a dungeon with wet flesh and rotting yellow skulls than marry to that buffoon." And that he could, at the very least, say with certainty.

"… Alright." Inhaling sharply, Vash beckoned the Italian over to his cupboards in the back of the church. "Go home. Tell everyone that you'll marry Alfred, and try to seem somewhat happy about it."

"But what the hell will that-"

"Let me finish." With that, the friar reached his robed arm back into one of the shelves, feeling around until his fingertips dusted across something cold and smooth in the very rear. He retracted his hand and revealed to Lovino a diminutive vial, filled nearly to the brim with a deep crimson liquid, which sloshed and frothed mysteriously in its container as Vash handled it. "Tomorrow evening, when you're in bed, drink this, and you'll fall into a deep sleep. Your pulse will stop completely, as will your breathing; you won't wake for another forty-two hours. When Alfred comes to find you on Thursday, the next morning, you'll seem dead to all. You will then be carried to the family tomb, with your casket open, as is tradition. Meanwhile, I'll send for Antonio; he will come in the night to find you, and the two of you can run away to Mantua. Unless your fears get the best of you, you should both be gone in no time." _And out of my hair for good…_

Lovino's amber eyes widened, and he hurriedly scrubbed away his tears with the back of his hand before snatching the vial from the friar. "Give me that. Don't bitch to me about fear."

Vash was truly beginning to loathe this man's habit of swearing in times of high stress. "Alright, get going. I'll send another friar quickly to Antonio in Manuta."

"In that case…" Tucking the vial inside a pouch in his belt, the Capulet turned to leave, giving a short nod to the friar one last time. "See you around, Father Vash."

~w~w~w~

Thus, the ever-persistent Gnaeus and his loyal servingmen stood huddled 'round a table in the great hall of the Capulet abode, discussing matters for the upcoming marriage and performing various tasks at the request of the head of the household.

"You, Peter." Placing his writing utensil aside, Gnaeus handed a piece of parchment to Peter, a large grin upon his tanned face. "Go find these guests and invite them to the celebration. And _don't_ go around inviting random Montagues this time, okay?"

"You can count on me!" Peter gave a little salute before snatching the parchment from Gnaeus and scuttling away. Despite his sadness for Arthur's passing, Peter had been in exceptionally high spirits as of late. He had also been spending more time with Berwald and Tino, oddly enough. Ah well. Whatever kept the little servant content.

The head Capulet turned to his other servant, another boy with a curl that, for one reason or another, resembled Lovino slightly. Well, apart from the cheery demeanor. "Alright, Mauro*, you go hire some cooks." As Mauro took his leave, Gnaeus gazed sidelong at Elizabeta as she strolled casually past the door. "Hey, Elizabeta?"

Pausing in the doorway, Elizabeta's eyes widened ever-so-slightly as she heard her name called. "Yes, sir?"

"Where has Lovino gone?"

"Oh, Lovino?" She lightly tread into the room, hands folded formally in front of her and a kind smile upon her face. "He's off with the friar."

"I see… that's good. Heaven knows that boy's been stubborn lately…" Scrunching up his face in thought, he beckoned Elizabeta over to ask a few things of her, only to be cut off by the sound of the front-most door to the estate being opened and shut rather hurriedly. "Lovino? Is that you?"

"It _is_ him, sir…" Eliza muttered, peering down the hall as Lovino approached. "And he's sort of… _smiling_…" _About time, too…_ she thought, though kept this commentary inside.

Lovino turned and entered the grand hall, advancing toward the two and using virtually all of his willpower to force his trembling to subside. "Yes?"

"Where have you been?" Gnaeus asked, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively at the boy's apparent serenity.

"Up at the friar's. Father Vash has opened my eyes, and I'm… s-sorry." Oh, how difficult it was to force that word past his lips sans venom…! "Look, I don't wanna get all sappy, so let's just say I'll do whatever you say and leave it at that."

Gnaeus could not help the joyous smile that overtook his features. "Ah, I'm so proud of you, m'boy! Alright, let's get this marriage on the road!"

"I spoke with Alfred at the church." Lovino leaned back against the wall, absently picking some dirt out from the bed of his fingernail. "I tried my best to treat him with the love he deserved." _And he deserved abso-fucking-lutely nothing…_

"This makes me so happy… Stand up straight, Lovino!"

The Capulet boy did as instructed.

Gnaeus was positively glowing with cheeriness. "Our whole city is bound to this friar~…"

Rolling his eyes, Lovino slinked his eyes toward Elizabeta, coughing shortly to catch her attention. "Nurse, come to my closet with me. I need to figure out what to wear tomorrow. I hate dressing up, but…"

"Oh, of course!" Elizabeta clapped her hands together once before following him out of the hall and up the stairs. Oh, what fun this would be– and she got to assist them! He and Alfred would make such a cute, steamy couple… Perfect material for her striking her with inspirations for her writing as well…

Thus it was that Gnaeus whirled back around to continue with conversation, only to find every single one of his companions vanished. "Oh… um, alright." Shrugging, he gathered his things and practically skipped into the kitchen.

Oh, what a wonderful wedding this would be…!

~w~w~w~

"Yeah, I guess those are the best clothes…" As much as Lovino hated dressing up, he had to admit that fashion was a certain specialty of his. Here and there he would fiddle with the collar of one shirt, or straighten out the stockings of another outfit… He picked up the shirt that had been chosen, after an hour of weeding through his belongings, and fingered the hem, staring deep into the depths of the fabric.

He had worn this last night.

On his _real_ wedding night.

It was time to put the plan in motion, wasn't it? Before he broke into tears again, it would be best to initiate it now. "Eliza? I want you to leave me on my own tonight. I have prayers and things I need to say in privacy. You know I'm an unworthy man bursting of sin."

"Oh, Lovino, you know you're as pure as the rest of us, inside." Elizabeta smiled gently, a pitying gleam in her emerald eyes, as she approached the man one last time before turning in. "You're doing the right thing, you know. Goodbye, my boy." Kissing him lightly on the forehead, as she had done so many times in earlier years, the nurse retreated from the room and softly shut the door behind her.

"Hmph. Bye, Eliza. Lord knows when we'll meet again." Bitterly, the Capulet sat himself steadily down on his bed, placing his face in his hands and releasing an erratic sigh. "Damn it, I'm so cold…" A chilling thrill rushed in his veins, limbs trembling and breath uneasy. Why was this so hard? All of this. It was almost more than he could bear.

And once again, he was entirely alone.

Swallowing a large gulp of saliva, Lovino removed the vial from his belt, eyes staring into its crystalline prison."… Heh. What if this stuff doesn't work? Will I be married to two men?" He shook his head incredulously, removing the dagger from its sheath at this belt and lightly sliding his fingers along the edge. "No. This will forbid that to ever happen."

He sat the knife aside on the table. "What if this is really a poison, that Vash mixed to kill me? Wouldn't surprise me. Bastard always had it in for me… Or I could be put in the tomb, and suffocate… And Arthur was just put in there, so it'll probably reek…" Oh, now he was just being ridiculous, but who dare not be in such a situation? This entire plan was equally unorthodox, yet here he was going through with it!

"Ah, screw it." He removed the top from the vial. "I drink to thee, you Montague bastard." Ergo, he drank the scarlet liquid hurriedly and entirely.

In mere minutes' time, he would topple backwards onto the bed, deathly unconscious, with Antonio's name on his paling lips.

~w~w~w~

As Thursday dawned on the horizon, preparations for the wedding were all but running the entire household out of their wits' end. Gnaeus chattered with the servants and chided the nurse, frantically trying to gather everything they needed for the marriage to take place on time. "Nurse!"

"Ah, yes?" Elizabeta peered up from her work, having been assisting Peter in reading off foods one last time.

"Go wake Lovino. Alfred's already here, and I need to have a quick talk with him. Make haste, make haste!"

"Understood!" Oh, how officious… Elizabeta shook her head before rushing up the stairs, avoiding the musicians narrowly on her way to Lovino's bedroom.

She opened the door slowly, peering inside the room with a gentle smile. Lovino was lying in bed, as signified by his unmoving shadow through the bed curtains. "Lovino? Alright, you lazy bum, wake up before I come over and beat you over the head with a platter." No response. "Oh, you… Sleep all you want _after_ the wedding. Wait, no, don't; Alfred's probably going to keep you up all night anyway. Oh, yes~…" She licked her lips at the thought and stepped inside the room, arms folded across her chest and a smirk upon her mouth. Even her implications weren't stirring the lazy Capulet. "Hey, lazy ass…"

The nurse pulled back the curtains. "… Why is he still wearing his clothes?" Normally, Lovino was known for sleeping naked… "… Lovino? Lovino!" She shook his shoulder vigorously, eyes widening to saucers and limbs beginning to tremble. "Oh, dear God! Lovino! Sir! No, no! Help! Help, someone, Lovino is dead! My lord! My lord!"

"What's all the commotion?" Gnaeus threw the door open and strode over to the bed, lightly shoving aside the sobbing nurse. He firmly took Lovino's hand in his, feeling for a pulse at the wrist. "… He's so cold. His blood has settled, joints stiff… He's been… _dead_ for quite a while… He…" A low cough erupted from his chest, and his tongue grew heavy. No longer could words escape his lips in these sorrowful times.

It is upon this hour that Vash and Alfred enter swiftly, eyeing the bed with large orbs. "… Alfred." Elizabeta turned toward the speechless blonde, shaking her head in dismay. "The day of your wedding, and your wife lies dead…"

Alfred's sapphire gaze could not tear itself from the body of his near-wife, fingers shaking at his sides. "I've waited so long for this day… He was wronged! Slain! This is just plain _wrong_!"

"Enough, all of you!' Vash stood before the bed, placing his hand upon the brow of the corpse. "Heaven gave you this child. Heaven has him now. And all of this blubbering isn't going to help anything!" He sighed, staring at the body for a moment. It was time to take action. "Make preparations for a burial."

It seemed as though the friar's plans to unite Capulet and Montague were null at this point. And so it was that Vash slid Lovino's glossy eyes shut and, as the remainder of the family retreated from the room, stuck the empty vial slyly into the Capulet's belt pocket.

"Best of luck to you, Lovino Capulet."

~w~w~w~

**A/N: *Mauro: Seborga**

**Well, finally picked this up again. Sorry I'm making these five chapters stretch out for so long.**

**And I didn't proofread this very thoroughly, so there may be errors.**

**Don't know when I'll be able to upload the final; chapter; hopefully sometime this month. Please review and whatnot. Greatly appreciated.**

**Can't wait until the final act! See you all soon, I hope!**


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